


Show

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Malfoycest, PWP, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy sends Draco a present that he’s happy to play with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This isn’t properly British. Set in an 8th year AU that goes better for the Malfoys.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Draco is very careful, as usual, not to unwrap the package from his father at the Slytherin table during breakfast. It isn’t like when he receives gifts from his mother, full of sweets and other things he can brag to housemates over. He pets the delivering owl appreciatively and scrawls a return note; simply:

_Of course, Father. Thank you._

Because it doesn’t really matter what’s underneath Father’s packaging. Whatever the directions are, Draco’s going to follow them. The owl takes off and Draco tries vainly to hide the large grin that’s going to be plastered on his face until he has a chance to be alone in the dorms.

Classes are awful. Eighth year is all redundant anyway, and as far as Draco’s concerned, his father’s already taught him everything he could possibly need to know. He doesn’t have time to open the package in between, but he fits in the letter before first period. The wait is always the worst part. He squirms in his seat and tries to keep the anticipation off his face; Merlin forbid Theodore Nott thinks he’s flirting again. Or worse, Pansy.

Draco has a large lunch, so when dinner comes he can skip it. He marches right past his oblivious housemates, and when he gets to his dorm he locks the door with a quick spell.

Then he marches over to his open four-poster and pulls the package out from underneath. There’re several things inside, but it’s the bundle of clothing he pulls out first. He drops his robes unceremoniously to the floor, pulls his shirt over his head, unbuckles his trousers and kicks everything off. A glance at the grandfather clock in the corner dictates five minutes left before the time Father specified. It takes only three minutes to shimmy into his new outfit, and that includes rolling up the knee-high white socks and smoothing out the dark gray skirt. The white button-up fits his thin chest perfectly; it’s the girl’s model, but it’s custom-cut to accommodate his lack-of-breasts and sports the Slytherin crest over his heart. It’s short-sleeved, and he ties his Slytherin tie back on, proud to display the family legacy.

Draco strolls over to examine himself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door with his remaining time. The Slytherins are a naturally vain bunch, so naturally even the boy’s room has an ornate mirror for just such a purpose. Quickly finger-combing his hair and striking a sultry pose, Draco decides that he looks utterly bang-able. With a trademark Malfoy smirk, he strolls back to the bed just as the clock chimes.

Draco lies down leisurely on his stomach and fishes the other item out of the package: a smaller, handheld mirror, oval-shaped and elaborately patterned around the edges. As he stares at it (and continues to preen a little over his reflection) the shining surface grows murky, until Draco can’t see his reflection at all.

Then Lucius Malfoy’s face comes into focus, wearing an appreciative grin. “Draco,” he smoothly greets, as though he isn’t staring up at his own son dressed in a girl’s uniform, alone in a locked dorm.

“Daddy,” Draco purrs, because that’s what his father likes to be called in these situations. And it’s also what Draco likes to call him. He likes to remind himself exactly who he’s talking to, and how utterly depraved that makes this. Biting his lip sensually and trying to look simultaneously as innocent as possible and sensuously tempting, he drawls, “Thank you for the present.”

Lucius’ smile warps into a full-body smirk, and his eyes openly begin to roam up and down his son’s body. Draco pulls back and squirms under the scrutiny, trying to strike the perfect pose to be as enticing as possible. He’s always too eager when these things happen; he’s been eager since breakfast and it’s been an intense struggle not to pull the closest older man into a dark closet and beg to have his brains fucked out. Whoever it would end up being couldn’t possibly fill his father’s shoes, of course, but he’d close his eyes and pretend. Daddy’s too far away, and this extra schooling is torture.

“It suits you,” Lucius seems to decide, after a moment. “Turn around, so I can see the whole thing.”

Biting his lip again, Draco gets up on his knees and shuffles around, arching his back and sticking out his ass. Then he rocks it from side to side gently, making the skirt sway. If he had proper music he’d put on a proper dance, but that’s more the sort of thing for the manor. Draco knows that strip shows are meant to end with him in Daddy’s lap, and if he can’t, it’d be so disappointing. So he turns back around again, still on his knees, and bunches his hands in his skirt. The mirror sits flatly on the bed, and Draco wonders briefly if he should prop it up somewhere. But Daddy doesn’t say anything about it, so Draco doesn’t do anything.

Draco’s a good boy. Well, with Daddy, at least. It isn’t like at Hogwarts, where he couldn’t care less about house points and detentions beyond small power trips; he’s obedient for his father only. The only reason he doesn’t have a detention every night and his house points in the negatives is because he wants to make his father proud, and that’d be a poor way to go.

Although, there are the rare times he’s ever so slightly naughty on purpose, just to get Daddy’s attention, or entice Daddy to spank him. He loves when he spills a glass of wine and has to bend over the dining room table to have Lucius swat at his behind with a cane. Or better yet, when he throws a Quaffle indoors and has to bend over his father’s bed, and feel his father’s firm hand on his warm, bare ass. He’s still an obedient son most of the time, of course, but there are certainly a few advantages to being naughty...

But those aren’t the sort of things that happen at Hogwarts, and writing lines or scrubbing floors is certainly a lot less fun.

After a nod of consideration from Lucius in the mirror, Draco can’t resist whining, “I miss you, Daddy.” And he lowers his head and snakes up a hand so he can slip one finger into his mouth and bite it.

He wants something much, much bigger in his mouth, but he knows he can’t have that right now. And it sucks. Lucius simply chuckles and drawls, “I miss you too, my little dragon. But you’ll come home for the holidays. ...And you’ll have to bring this with you...”

“Yes, Daddy,” Draco coos, and he runs his other hand all down his body, wishing he could touch his father instead. The thought of sitting in a skirt on Daddy’s lap is almost too much to think about—it makes him whimper again at the distance and wish he could leap through the mirror. ...And right onto his Daddy’s hard cock...

Eyes already fluttering and head fuzzy with need, Draco whines, “What should I do?” He runs his hand all over his body while he waits, trying very, very hard to resist the one area that most wants his attention. Touching himself without permission is definitely something he would get spanked for.

Chuckling again, Lucius muses, “Didn’t you read my letter?” And he leans back—Draco thinks he must be in his study. He’s probably lounging at his desk, feet up, trousers open. The thought makes Draco groan—he wants to be home so badly. Getting fucked on his father’s desk in his study is one of Draco’s favourite pass times, and thinking about it makes him harden even more beneath his skirt. He just hopes his precum doesn’t leak through—how is he going to slip this in with the rest of the laundry without the house elves giving it to some girl? He’ll have to look up some cleaning spells... “Well,” Lucius says. “I’m waiting.”

Nodding, Draco mumbles, “Yes, Daddy,” again. He feels the need to affirm everything. He feels like he’s five when he’s with his father like this—a foreign, fantasy five, but a child nonetheless—and feels the need to feign innocence and pretend to be younger than he is. It makes the game hotter, somehow. Just like calling Father, ‘Daddy,’ and getting spanked and scolded, and being ordered around.

Draco’s a Slytherin, and good at following orders. He’s Daddy’s little trooper through and through and climbs to the edge of his bed to fish underneath it for another box. This one’s protected by a mess of spells Father showed him how to implement—although it’s unlikely any of his housemates would go through his things; they have an unspoken understanding that they all have secrets. Draco’s are just a little... kinkier than others.

Once the spells are dislodged, he pops the lid open and takes out his present from a few months ago—his favourite one yet. He closes the box and puts it back under the bed, along with the open package from earlier today.

Then he straightens out and looks down through the mirror at his father, while clutching the heavy, black, very large and realistically-sculpted dildo. It was custom made just for him, he knows, and in the exact shape and size of Lucius’ cock. When Draco was first made to try it out (at home so Daddy could see, of course) he reported it felt just like Daddy’s, as promised. (Except not alive, obviously, but he can’t always have the real thing.) And the shape and size aren’t the only thing reminiscent of Lucius, either. Painted in silver and green on the large obsidian base is a perfect replica of the dark mark, just like the one on Daddy’s forearm. It’s a ‘Death Eater Dildo,’ Daddy calls it, despite all the hassle the dark side gave them—it’s still in their blood, their history: something they share that few others do. And it isn’t like the strange muggle, plastic counterparts Daddy’s told him about, either. It feels almost real in his hands, hard as can be at its core, but with a thin layer on top like skin, which can move and grow warm, and the head feels sort of spongy and slick. Really, the only thing to signify it’s fake other than its disembodied nature is the pitch-black colour and snake-and-skull tattoo.

It’s perfect, in Draco’s opinion. A piece of master craftsmanship. Without breaking eye contact form his father in the mirror, Draco lifts the fake dick to his lips and chastely kisses the head before starting to nibble cutely at it, tonguing the slit. Just as Daddy first promised it would, it starts to leak a bit of precum into his mouth. Lucius moans on the other side of the mirror, and Draco slips his mouth around the entire mushroom-like head, locking his lips over it and sucking on it gently. He hungrily laps up every bit of precum that comes out—it tastes just like Daddy’s. Probably because it is Daddy’s. Draco grins evilly at his father around the dildo while he continually works his mouth over it—Lucius leans back in his chair, smirking very broadly in a very pleased and very proud way.

Draco’s already expressed how impressed he is with Daddy’s magic. It’s such a brilliant spell, and he absolutely loves it. When it’s activated, Daddy can feel all his licks and kisses, just like Draco’s really caressing him. And Draco can always taste all of Daddy’s cum, and it feels and smells just like him. It’s more than he could ever ask for, being trapped away at this wretched school for another Merlin-forsaken year, and it’s the one thing that keeps the wait bearable. Sometimes, when he isn’t busy snapping erotic, moving pictures to owl to Daddy or writing raunchy love letters, when he’s lying in his bed alone at night, he takes the dildo out of its box and sucks on it gently. After dinner's done, it’s like a particularly sweet dessert. He draws the curtains and puts up the necessary spells, of course, so his roommates can’t catch or hear him. Then he moans fully around it, deep-throating it as far as he can, sucking it as hard as he can, and swallowing as much cum as he can suck out of it. And thinking of Daddy the whole time. And picturing Daddy back at the manor, enjoying his attentions.

...Most of the time, the connecting spell isn’t activated, so it won’t bother Daddy, but the cum comes out when he sucks either way, and he likes to pretend that Daddy turns it on every once in a while, just to see if Draco’s being bad.

And sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly naughty, he even puts it inside himself before classes, so he can feel Daddy filling him up all the time. (Of course, when he does that he has to spell his own dick down, because feeling Daddy stretch his hole and brush his prostate with every movement makes him impossibly hard.)

But now he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing his erection, and he lets it tent his skirt while he sucks hungrily at the fake-cock that tastes, and feels, and even smells just like Daddy.

“Draco,” Lucius hisses suddenly, breaking him out of his dreamy reverie, “you’re going to make Daddy cum before the show’s even started. Now stop fooling around or I’ll have to take your toy away.”

Draco instantly pouts around his mouthful. That doesn’t leave much of an option—he wouldn’t let wild horses drag this toy away from him. It’s the sort of thing he’s going to treasure forever and ever, and keep in his sock drawer no matter who he ends up living with or marrying. (But he doesn’t want to think about—Daddy’s the only one he needs.)

Pulling the dildo out of his mouth with a wet pop, Draco swipes the remaining precum off with his tongue and places the toy lovingly down on his green duvet. He licks his lips to collect any liquid that may have slipped out, and then opens wide and slips in as many fingers as he can. He sucks on all of them, tonguing them and covering them in saliva and getting them as wet as humanly possible. His eyes flutter closed and he pretends they’re Daddy’s fingers, getting ready to prod at his entrance and pry him open. No one can prepare him like Daddy can. Daddy makes love-making an art, and every step of the process is unadulterated pleasure. ...Draco’s been taught well, of course, but he still just can’t quite do it like Daddy can, and his fingers aren’t as long, or as strong and skilled.

But Daddy isn’t here, so Draco doesn’t have any choice but to release his wet fingers and trail them down his body. He detours one hand at his chest, unable to resist, and pops open a few buttons at the top while the other dips down below his skirt. He slowly lifts the dark material up with one hand, sliding it sensually up his thighs. The other hand slips between his skin and shirt to start rubbing and toying with one nipple. “I wish you were here, Daddy,” he breathes, and he can hear his father’s breath hitch on the other side of the mirror as his skirt lifts all the way up.

Draco arches his hips forward to show his father the rest of his present in all its glory. Under his skirt he’s wearing thin, white, frilly lace panties, with a little red bow in the center. The fabric is creamy soft and caresses his skin like none of his other clothes, and they feel surprisingly good. They’re his size and hug his ass snuggly, but the fabric’s currently stretched too tightly out by his erect cock. He’s a little sorry to ruin the view like that, but he can’t help it. The thought of being in a skirt and panties for his father is too erotic to not get hard over. He wonders if he should apologize for tenting them.

But Lucius just sucks in a breath and drawls a tad mindlessly, “Good, very good...”

Draco grins proudly and purrs, “Thank you, Daddy.” His hips itch to lunge forward, to rub against Daddy’s lap and beg for release. But he has to remind himself it’s not about him—it’s never about him. It’s about pleasing Daddy. So he slips one still-wet hand inside the impossible-stretched panties, diving downwards to the bottom. It’s so difficult not to stop and fist his cock, but he knows he can’t. Instead, his fingers press between his ass cheeks and find his puckered hole. He rubs gently at it until he’s confident enough to push the tip of one inside. He moans as it breaches and uses his other hand to switch to the other nipple.

He can’t help himself; as he quickly nudges his index finger in and out of his hot channel, circling his own puckered hole with the next digit, he whimpers, “I wish these were your fingers, Daddy.”

“So do I, pet,” Daddy sighs. “So do I.”

Draco whimpers louder when his second finger pushes inside, slick with his spit and a bit of gathering sweat. He scissors himself impatiently, grateful as always that he keeps his nails blunt for just this purpose. It sort of stings and burns, stretching himself like this, and he can’t help but scrunch up his face. But he’s too horny to do it any slower, or to bother getting proper lube. He doesn’t want to waste time. By the time he slips a third finger in, Daddy interrupts with a guttural, “Slip your panties down, Draco. Daddy wants to see your pretty hole.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Draco grunts. And he pulls his hand away with a tiny whine to shove the panties down his thighs, leaving them stretched between his knees. His cock springs free happily, fully hard and dripping in the open air. The panties are already a little wet from a mixture of sweat, spit, and precum. ...Draco wishes he were at home, so Daddy could cum inside them, and then Draco could pull them up and walk around with Daddy’s cum in his panties all day...

But that can’t happen right now. So he settles for using both hands to rub at his furrowed entrance, slipping wet fingers in and coaxing his muscles apart. He needs to put something much, much bigger inside himself—Daddy’s huge in every sense. He has both the longest and thickest cock Draco’s ever seen, and the dildo reflects that. He tries to be strategic with where he puts his hands—he wants Daddy to be able to see as much as possible. Daddy’s always telling him what a nice ass he has and what a gorgeous, tight hole. So Draco likes to show it off. After a bit of stretching he moves both hands aside and just uses the tips of his index fingers to stretch open his hole and show Daddy.

Daddy makes an appreciative grunt on the other side of the mirror, and Draco moans. There’s nothing sexier than pleasing Daddy. He’s so hard. He wants to touch himself so badly, but he knows he can’t, and it takes all of his will power to resist. (He has to resist, he has to. Because last week he didn’t, and Daddy sent him a cockring. He had to put it on himself, and it magically stayed tightly around his base until Daddy decided he could cum, which ended up taking several days. ...It took lots of concealment charms and dreamless-sleep potions to get through that one.)

“Am I ready, Daddy?” Draco breathlessly asks after a moment.

Lucius hesitates for a moment, making a teasing, “Hm,” noise, until Draco practically screams, “ _Daddy!_ ”

Chuckling lightly, Lucius drawls, “My, my—aren’t we eager.” Draco just nods furiously. “Why don’t you tell Daddy what you want so he can decide if you’re ready?”

“Mmmm, you!” Draco moans. “You, Daddy—I want your huge cock inside me!”

“A pity,” Lucius mutters. “As do I. ...But if you’re a little more specific, I will allow you to use your toy...”

“Mmmm, Daddy, please, I want your cock, I want it so bad... I want to suck on your dick and have you fill my mouth with your seed, and I want you to fuck my ass until I can barely walk... I want you to nail me in every room of our house, in every room of Hogwarts... Daddy, I want you to fuck me everywhere, all the time... I want you to come all over me... I want you to order me around and use me like a toy... Oh, Daddy, I wish your dick was in me...” Draco finishes with a weak whimper, his dick twitching at his own words and longing to be touched. He finishes in a low, throaty whisper/moan, “Daddy, I wish you were holding me...”

Lucius commands firmly, “Put the toy in yourself, Draco.”

Draco bites his lip and nods. He picks up the black dildo and holds it below himself, pressing the tip to his stretched hole. He rests the base on the mattress and spreads his legs farther apart (as far as the panties between them will allow) so he can hover precariously above it.

Then he drops his full body weight down, impaling himself on the fake cock, crying out and pushing downwards. He wants it as far in him as it’ll go, right _now_ , never mind adjusting and being comfortable. His dick doesn’t wilt even slightly at the burn, at the odd pain. He keeps pushing farther and farther down, getting it farther and farther in, and his walls squeeze at it and hold onto it. He knows he’s tight—Daddy always tells him so—but he thinks Daddy’s also just really, really big. It’s always almost more than he can bear—a centimeter or two short of making him pass out from the overwhelming feeling of being split apart and _completely filled._ He can feel every bit of Daddy on the dildo—every vein, every curved angle, the shape of the head and the way it reaches so far and brushes at his walls. When he gets some of his bearings back, he tries to look down at the mirror, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“Fuck,” Daddy swears, and Draco smiles. He wriggles around on the dildo a bit, hoping Daddy can feel it and wanting to make him squirm. Lucius mock-scowls at his childish, bratty behavior. But that doesn’t last long.

“I love you, Daddy,” Draco purrs sweetly, which earns him an eye roll and an affectionate smile. Then he drawls much more thickly and erotically, “And I love having your big dick inside me.”

And he lifts himself up on his knees, holding the dildo’s base still so it can slide out. He rises up until only the tip’s inside him and then locks eyes with his father. And then slams harshly back down. He impales himself for the second time and moans wildly, wishing it were Lucius’ hands holding him down, grasping at his hips and leaving bruises. Lucius watches him levelly as he picks back up and drops back down again. He adjust his angle and tries again, and finally finds that sweet spot, and on the fifth thrust he sees stars. If Daddy were here he would’ve found it on the first thrust—he knows Draco’s ass perfectly.

Draco can’t help himself; he starts bouncing rapidly up and down on the dildo, fucking himself senseless and adoring the sensation of being filled. His mouth is open wide and his lips are red and swollen from being bitten, and he releases a whimpered litany of moans and gasps as he goes. No matter how many times he does this, it’s always good, always wonderful. It’s not what it is with Daddy, but it’s so close, and knowing Daddy’s watching him makes it so much hotter. He wants to put on a good show for Daddy and forces himself to keep upright and tries not to drool. He feels heady and warm. His skirt bounces up and down with each thrust, staying loosely scrunched at his waist. His dick also bounces freely, wanting so to be touched and paid attention to. But Daddy hasn’t given him permission yet. So he can only listen to the slapping sounds of his own flesh hitting his thighs on every thrust and the squishing sounds of the dildo pounding in and out of his abused hole. He hopes Daddy has a good angle. He hopes Daddy enjoys the view. And he hopes Daddy feels as good as he feels, and misses him as much as he misses his father.

Draco can never last as long as Daddy can. He’s young, and his hormones are wild, and he’s been waiting for this and wanting it _all day_ , thinking about Daddy all day. Oh Merlin. It’s almost too much. It’s always too much.

“ _Daddy,_ ” Draco pants, voice high and breathless and needy. “Ohh! Daddy, I want it harder, faster, _Daddy..._ ” He trails off in a useless whimper.

Lucius suddenly barks, “Get on your hands and knees.”

“W-what?” Draco gasps, barely able to concentrate. He can hardly function. “Th-the mirror...”

“Draco, do as I say!”

Draco instantly obeys, and falls haphazardly forward, arms wresting on either side of the mirror, face fallen over it. He tries to hold himself up so he can still see Daddy through his hazy, half-lidded eyes, and Daddy doesn’t disappoint. Draco can see the tip of his wand work on the other side of the mirror, and Daddy mumbles a quick spell, and suddenly the dildo’s moving of its own accord, slamming so hard into Draco’s ass it makes him almost lose balance and collapse forward. He absolutely screams when it hits his prostate like that. “ _Daddddy,_ ” he moans loudly, clenching around the dildo as it pulls quickly out again, slamming brutally back in. It fucks him at a rough, merciless pace, over and over and impossibly deep—Draco always has to hold onto a few centimeters, but with the dildo doing its own work it can go _all the way_ in. It’s absolutely mammoth. It’s so much. Trying desperately to be coherent, he moans at the mirror, “B-but, D-daddy... what do you w... _oooohhhhh_... what do you w-want to seeee...?”

“I can feel it,” Lucius grunts, and Draco can see the smoldering lust in his eyes. Then his voice gets a little deeper, and he growls, “And I know what you look like when I fuck you.” And Draco moans.

It’s too good. It’s too much. His own dick is so hard, leaking profusely. He knows he isn’t supposed to ask—but he’s behaved so well, he’s been so good... maybe he can...? He can’t help but beg, “D-Daddy, p-please can I touch my—AHH! My... myself...”

After a second, Lucius pants, “You know your dick’s only for Daddy, Draco.”

“I-I know but—oohhhh—ohhhh, please... Daddy, _please_... I’ll do anythinggg...” His brain wracks for bargaining tools. Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin, it’s so good. He has to touch himself, he just _has to_. Every thrust is more than he can take. “I’ll wear my new panties every day...” After a moment of barely being able to function and recalling old fantasies, he adds, “I-I’ll fill them with your c-cum from my t-toy, and I’ll sit in class with it all over my panties, ohhhh, Daddy, pleeeease...”

Draco lifts his head and tries to keep it still as he can, so he can watch Lucius’ reaction. But it’s hard to focus when the dildo keeps shoving him forward, rutting into him like an animal. But that’s how Daddy is; Daddy’s strong and brutal. He chuckles again from the other side, voice sounding lower and more laboured. “What a little wreck I’ve turned you into...”

“Your wreck, Daddy,” Draco pants. “All yours.”

“Very well, Draco,” Lucius finally sighs. Draco’s heart leaps in his chest—he knew Daddy would say yes. Daddy gives him everything; he’s so spoiled. “You may touch yourself.”

Draco doesn’t need to be told twice. He falls face-first into the bed, cheek pressed into the cool surface of mirror, hands flying underneath himself. He grabs his rock-hard dick and starts pumping immediately, rapidly. It hardly takes anything. He’s exploding before he knows it, shouting, “Daddy!” loudly and coming all over his hands, all over the blankets. He milks out his release, still fisting himself until every last drop is out, and the dildo in his ass continues to brutally pound into him.

When he’s done, it keeps going. But Daddy’s older, wise, stronger. He lasts longer. Draco lifts weakly up on his elbows and tilts his head to kiss the mirror, wishing he could kiss his father. He squeezes his muscles and tries to make himself twitch even more and even tighter around his father’s cock. He wants to give as good as he got.

When Daddy does come, Draco can feel the dildo spouting his father’s seed into him, filling up his ass and pooling around his hole. He hears his father shout, “ _Draco,_ ” distantly through the mirror, and Draco loves the way his name sounds on his father’s lips. The spell on the dildo fades, and it stills inside him, still stretching him out and filling him. Panting heavily, Draco looks down at his father’s spent face. He loves that he can do that; make a man as powerful as Lucius Malfoy speechless and content. It fills his chest with pride, and he wishes they could kiss properly; could make-out through the mirror. Daddy gives the _best_ kisses, so full of darkness and hunger and _power_. He takes over everything Draco is, consuming and completing, and it always feels _perfect_. No one else can ever match it.

After a moment of struggling to regain breath, Draco mumbles again, “I miss you.”

“I know, darling,” Daddy sighs, equally as breathless-sounding. Draco smiles inadvertently at the petname; he loves when he melts Daddy like this. “I miss you, too. ...But you’ll come home for the holidays, and bring all the nice presents I’ve given to you.”

Draco nods and tucks a strand of sweat-slicked blond hair that’s tumbled into his eyes behind his ear.

Then a knock bursts through the air and Draco nearly jumps. His spell keeps his noise from going out, but not outside noise for coming in. “Draco?!” Goyle bellows through the mahogany door. “Are you alright? It’s locked!”

Lucius chuckles through the mirror, despite Draco’s scowl. “Looks like your friends are missing you. Clean yourself up; we’ll arrange another show later.”

“But, Daddy—” Draco whines, because he doesn’t want to stop, even though he’s covered in two sets of cum and already thoroughly satiated. He never wants to stop playing with Daddy, no matter what the outside world may want.

But Lucius just shakes his head and repeats, “Later. We have to keep up appearances, my dragon. Now clean up and go play with your friends.” Pouting, Draco’s about to say that he isn’t six any more and he isn’t going to go ‘play with his friends,’ but Lucius adds with a very Slytherin smirk, “And don’t forget to do what you promised me. I’ll turn off the connection spell so it won’t bother me at odd times, but I assure you it’ll still be my seed you’ll be soaking your panties in. I’ll expect an owl with pictures every day to prove that you’re wearing them.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Draco’s cheeks flush. He forgot about that. But he still chirps obediently, “Yes, Daddy.”

And then with one final, dirty wink, Lucius’ face disappears from the glass and Draco’s own reflection shows back up in it; it’s a normal mirror again.

“Draco?” Pansy calls worriedly through the door, and Draco rolls his eyes. He pulls his panties back up and is just about to head for the door when he realizes he’s still in a skirt and heads back to change. Oh, and he’ll have to throw around some scorgifys, too.

...But he isn’t going to take the dildo out.

And he’ll have to think of something particularly raunchy to write on the back of tomorrow’s photo, to try and entice Daddy to arrange another session sooner than Christmas.


End file.
